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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29293188">From A Certain Point of View</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/batsy22/pseuds/batsy22'>batsy22</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, NO OC'S, Vignette, Worldbuilding, minor characters pov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:21:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,499</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29293188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/batsy22/pseuds/batsy22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A vignette series focusing on the minor characters of Dragon Age: Origins.  </p>
<p>Bodhan struggles to accommodate the varied needs of all the companions. Empress Celene contemplates her upcoming match to King Cailan on the eve of Ostagar. The spirit of Shartan in the Temple of Sacred Ashes mourns the Long Defeat of Elvhen history. Barkspawn prepares to fight for the fate of Ferelden. And more.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>shianni/lanya</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Conquest of Ferelden (Empress Celene)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>tw/cw for depiction of abusive relationship dynamics</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Empress Celene contemplates her upcoming match to King Cailan and the final conquest of Ferelden.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Empress Celene writes, “You understand, of course, that the visit to Ferelden shall be postponed indefinitely due to the Blight.” She nearly adds <em> my darling, </em>but this line of communication is not secure enough for such endearments. Their courtship requires the utmost discretion lest the more conservative nobles of both nations discover it. Celene seals the letter, her hand cramping from the last several hours. It’s late and Briala is her only company. She sits at her vanity while her servant brushes her hair.</p><p>She says aloud. “I’ll need you to deliver this to the courier early tomorrow morning. Do not wear your Valimont mask, and be discreet.” Briala nods. Celene trusts only her and a select few others in this matter. She adds, “this darkspawn surge is quite inconvenient, isn’t it?” </p><p>“Can darkspawn ever be convenient?” replies Briala as she continues to brush Celene's hair. </p><p>“I suppose not, but I hoped for a swift conclusion to this business. We are in a very delicate stage of negotiations now. If Cailan dies, all our work will be for naught,” she says, “though I must admit, I would not be sorry to be rid of that insufferable Ferelden boy.” </p><p>“Is that any way to speak of your future husband?” Briala teases as the brush pulls a knot in her hair. <em> Husband. </em>The word itself is unsettling, but a good ruler puts matters of state above personal whims. Marrying Cailan would do what Gaspard and his chevaliers could not. Besides, Briala and herself would simply need to be more discreet. </p><p>“It is perhaps fortunate that there is still some time before I am obligated to call him ‘husband.’ This interlude comes with risk, however. We must make sure Gaspard does not discover our courtship.” Her cousin would rather invade Ferelden at the cost of thousands of lives; where she would bring their lost province back into the Empire without spilling a single drop of blood. Orlais’s true power is not her army, but her reputation. </p><p>“I have my agents in his household listening,” Briala replies. “I’d love to see his face when he finds out.” </p><p>Celene laughs. “I would like to as well. My dear cousin has desired to spill Ferelden blood, for nearly half an age.” </p><p>“He may yet get his wish. There are men like Loghain Mac Tir to contend with.” Ah yes, Loghain Mac Tir, the commoner still fighting the last war. Perhaps, he could have been a threat on the battlefield, to Gaspard, but not to her careful diplomacy. </p><p>“Teryn Loghain is an old fool who has rightly earned the contempt of his peers. He is of no concern to Orlais.” </p><p>“Loghain is not my only concern. My agents tell me the half the country will revolt, if Orlais attempts to reconquer Ferelden. Whether it is done through arms or diplomacy.” </p><p>“Then I must trust in your ability to ease the transition of power.” Celene does not enjoy the messy necessity of Briala’s work, but the elf girl does it well and quietly. She is quite fortunate to have such a servant, she still regrets that unfortunate business with her parents, all those years ago. It’s late and it has been a very long day. Celene climbs into bed as Briala wordlessly snuffs out the candles. Her lover leans over the bedside table, the moonlight reflecting off the tip of her ears. Celene reaches to caress them, Briala flinches but does not turn away. “There is something else on your mind. Tell me,” she says. </p><p>Celene looks into the elf’s eyes, sees something is bothering her. There’s something she’s not saying, and that Celene cannot tolerate. Briala says aloud, “There has been a mien’harel in Denerim. A rebellion. A reminder to the humans that even a short blade must be respected,” she explains, “the Arl of Denerim’s son raped an elvhen woman on her wedding day. They killed him, so the guards purged the alienage.” </p><p>“How unfortunate,” Celene says. She sits up and  takes Briala’s hand. “Do you believe these elves can be an asset to Orlais? They must have no love for the current regime in Ferelden.” Celene has studied her history. The elves were a critical part of the last Ferelden rebel army, it would be ideal if they were to defect. Fools like Gaspard discount their usefulness, but Celene knows how valuable the rabbits can be. </p><p>“Truthfully, I do not believe my people much care for who sits on the throne. Whether they are Orlesian or Ferelden. They do not yet understand what good you will do for them.” </p><p>“So we shall show them. When the timing is right,” Celene promises.  </p><p>“Yes,” Briala says, “we will.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Demon of the Harrowing (Mouse)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mouse watches as another mortal wanders into his domain</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mouse is the Harrowing. He is the Terror of the young apprentice venturing the paths of the Fade, the Despair of inescapable oppression, the Pride of temporary victory. He is whatever mortals bring with them into his domain. They like to imagine a strict hierarchy of the Fade, one they can easily categorize based on the smallest morsel of information. A demon for every one of their sins, what a quaint idea. He imagines it makes them feel better, denying the unknowable is what mortals do best. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Truly, such creatures fascinate him. His kind are eternal whereas mortals all inevitably face their doom. It foregone conclusion that they will die. Every mortal who has come into his domain knows this, but they all have the most interesting ways of denying it. Listening to their little prayers has become one of his favorite pastimes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A younger mage ventures into his lair now. They are always his favorite. It is as if they are a beacon to the entire Fade with everything they throw up. He must thank this Templar Order for providing such lovely meals. He has grown quite sated on what they feed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What Mouse does is truly a mercy. The mages are trapped their entire lives. The spectre of a terrible death hangs over them. So Mouse offers them a choice when they have none. All they have to do is say yes. To consent for just a moment. Let him in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some he lets escape. In the end though, they all find their way back to him. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Blood of Maric (Cailan)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>King Cailan charges the darkspawn horde head on. It ends poorly.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cailan is of the blood of King Maric the Liberator who defeated mighty Orlais. He is of the blood of King Calenhad the Great who united all the Alamarri into one nation. He is of the blood of the legendary Hafter the Strong who slew all manner of Ferelden’s enemies with his mighty greatsword. </p>
<p>The mabari bark at the dark forest. Chantry incense fills the air. He looks into the faces of his soldiers and sees fear. But he does not fear the Blight, as all manner of Men and Beasts have fallen to the blades of his family. Duncan tells him of an archdemon, a monster of unthinkable power, Cailan only sees another conquest for the Therin legacy. This Blight is a chance for him to forge his own legend, to achieve the same glory as his ancestors. </p>
<p>“The plan will work, Your Majesty,” Duncan assures him. But he does not need assurance, for he is the King of Ferelden, the Guardian of his great realm and its people. </p>
<p>“Of course it will. The Blight ends here.” </p>
<p>The forest catches fire and the darkspawn horde steps through. Their numbers are great, but the darkspawn do not know courage or valar; that they fight without honor is their greatest weakness. He orders a volley. The ashwarriors send their mabari hounds straight at the monsters. Many darkspawn fall, but not nearly enough. But the monsters have not met him yet. </p>
<p>“Prepare to charge,” he orders his generals.</p>
<p>“Sire, should we not hold formation and wait for the horde?” Duncan questions, “We have the more advantageous position.” That was Loghain’s plan, but he will not let the old man steal his glory. </p>
<p>“No, we fight our enemy with our full strength.” They will meet Evil head on, just like the heroes of old. The darkspawn horde will face the full brunt of Ferelden’s army and the Grey Wardens. He almost pities the Blight. “For Ferelden,” he yells. There can be no other rallying cry, no worthier cause. The darkspawn grow closer and closer. He lifts his golden sword to strike them down. </p>
<p>He slips. </p>
<p>The ground is far more uneven than expected. He tries to stand, but the heavy armor pushes him down into the mud. His honor guard pulls him up, but the poor bloke is struck through by a darkspawn. Duncan avenges him. Cailan tries to follow the Warden’s movements, remembers his father’s training, and even slays a few darkspawn of his own. He however did not expect the mud, or that terrible smell, or unceasing chaos of the battle, but he still rises above it all. </p>
<p>All the same, it is his destiny to end this Blight, he realizes as he kills another hurlock. This is the path the Maker has laid out for him. He will rise higher than even his mighty ancestors. An ogre charges him, but even such a formidable foe is no match for the blood of Therin. He raises his sword. </p>
<p>King Cailan looks down and sees his armor bent into his ribs. </p>
<p>“Oh,” he thinks. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Banal'nadas (Mythal)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mythal's careful tapestry of history is almost complete</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>is flemeth a minor character? Ehhhhhh, but she's got little screentime so I'm justifying it lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“Banal’Nadas” </span>
  </em>
  <span>was what the Wolf was fond of saying. “The Blight is inevitable.” He always did have a flare for the dramatic, but then again, who is she to talk? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mythal does not fear the Blight as he did, doesn’t have that all-consuming terror which eventually led her once loyal servant down the path of self destruction. She must oppose it of course, she has no intention of letting the world she has so carefully cultivated fall into chaos. At least not yet. It was the Blight that brought Arlathan to its knees, a final vengeance brought forth by the dead Titans. A force then used by the foolish Evanuris as a weapon, by her arrogant husband and daughters, who dared to betray her in the end. Mythal has not forgotten their treachery and they will suffer for it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Blight is unstoppable, uncontrollable, and inherently destructive; a force that one cannot simply outsmart or outmatch. Mythal is not foolish enough to try to do so, but she sees the opportunities the Blight provides. The soul of the archdemon for example, the key to the Black City. Flemeth is granted such ancient knowledge from the spirit of Mythal inside her. The two are one being now, forever united in their quest of vengeance, for the reckoning that will shake the world to its very foundations. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mythal steps out of the hut into the wilds. She reaches out to these ancient woods, feels its fear of the coming darkspawn. It is right to be afraid; she fears these wilds will never recover from its taint. So much has been lost already, the destruction of the natural world is just one more tragedy in the Long Defeat of history. She knows that the world bends ever towards the mundane, that all ancient and magical things risk extinction. Flemeth has designated herself their guardian, and she will preserve what was no matter the cost. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She has held these treaties for centuries, waiting for the two Grey Wardens now in her hut. The two know nothing of the force they oppose. They see only darkspawn, pathetic creatures born of the hubris of the Tevinter fools. They do not, cannot understand the true ancient and powerful nature of what they oppose. The Wardens are no more than tools, ones that will serve their purpose. They will end the Blight, that she is certain of, but it is Morrigan’s role to see her plan come to fruition. She has trained the girl her entire life for her ultimate purpose. Morrigan will rebel against her, Flemeth has seen this coming far in advance, but even her daughter cannot defy the fate that has been crafted for her. Urthmiel’s soul will come to her sooner or later, its ancient power restored, free of the Blight’s corruption. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The careful tapestry of history she has woven is almost complete. Change is coming to the world. Once the Blight is defeated, she will thrive in the chaos to come. The Wolf will wake soon and he will once more be her servant, willing or not.  Soon everything that was will return and Mythal will finally have her revenge. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Broken Circle (Blood Mage)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A Blood Mage Attempts to Escape from the Circle in the chaos</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She is a maleficar, a witch, a blood mage, a consort of demons, everything the templars teach that mages are by nature. The Blood Mage had tried so hard, to be different from what they made her. Once she was a healer, but healing magic cannot stop the templars, cannot free her people. She misses the feeling of the sympathetic magic flowing through her, the warmth of the spirit wisps, but blood magic is a path one cannot stray from. Her connection to Fade magic has been ripped away, the power of blood is all she has left. </p><p>The demons are ever present in her mind. This forsaken Tower brings up too much, Rage, Pride, Fear Despair all try to break through. One stray thought, one breach in her will, and they will take her as they have so many of her comrades. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She focuses her mind, thinks of freedom, escape, a broken chain, and it is this that drives her forward past the demons. </p><p>The blood mages will be judged, and she cannot deny that they deserve it. Many will use this tragedy to reaffirm their own prejudices; that mages are inherently evil, vessels for demons. It is a comfortable preconception; one that justifies the brutality inflicted upon her people. The rite of tranquility, the Harrowing, the dungeons in the basement where so many starve forgotten, the rape of young mages without consequence, children stolen from their parents, these are the everday injustices mages face. The Loyalists think these evils will stop if they subordinate themselves even more to the templars. The Isolationists think ignoring oppression will result in its end. The Aequitarians would rather sit on a fence forever. Even the Liberati, of which she was once a member, struggle for independence only in the templar controlled colleges and assemblies. Their strategy has not borne fruit in the five hundred years they’ve tried it. So they had decided to instead fight for their freedom, as is their duty. Loghain had promised them liberation from the Chantry if they would side with him. How could they not accept? The blood mage only wishes there was a better way than this. </p><p>Uldred has betrayed them, his mind lost to Pride. She regrets deeply the result of their actions, she will atone once she is free, but cannot regret the cause. The Chantry teaches that mages must be passive in their imprisonment, to never fight back. It was however Andraste Herself who overthrew the old order and freed the slaves. She accomplished these things not merely through her words, but through her armies. Sometimes the only way to bring the Maker’s justice to the world is through violence and sin, to reach the holy through the profane. She can only hope He will be merciful. </p><p>If she can get past the templars, she will be free. The Blood Mage swears to Andraste that she will atone if She will grant her the strength to escape this prison. She had planned to dedicate herself to religious life, the liberation theology Chantry in Lothering has been destroyed, but perhaps she could find a progressive cloister in Denerim. If not there is always the Grey Wardens. Then, she would finally be free of the templars. But she will never really be free of them, Despair whispers into her mind, one day they will catch her. They will rip out her last remaining connection to the Fade, she will lose all drive and emotion, a doll for the templars to do what they wish with. Better to end it now. Every mage knows there are fates far worse than death. </p><p>The Blood Mage pushes past Despair. She is part of a cause bigger than herself, one that will one day free her people in Andraste’s example. She thinks once more of the Circle broken forever, their chains snapped. She is so close, closer than she has ever been. This is the one chance for escape. </p><p>She cuts into her flesh and draws forth the power within. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Bi-Weekly Full Camp Supply Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bodhan mediates a camp supply meeting</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Welcome to our bi-weekly full camp supply meeting,” Bodhan says to the assembled party around the fire, “as always, tell me and the boy what you’ll be needing, and we’ll be sure to stock it. Within two to three weeks of course.” </p>
<p>“Enchantment!” Sandal confirms. He prepares his notebook. His son is quite helpful for the business. A bit unorthodox sure, but quite good at keeping inventory and of course weirdly skilled at enchanting. He’s asked the boy how he got so good at it, but all he ever gets is “enchantment!” </p>
<p>Bodham has seen some very odd things in this world, that’ll happen when your job is raiding the Deep Roads. The ragtag group in front of him though is a new degree of strange, a mismatch of formidable folks across Thedas. Alistair and Leliana sit giggling together at the edge of the fire. They’re ostensibly the normal ones, but he’s heard that Alistair is the heir to the throne and Leliana was an assassin? The Qunari soldier, Sten, glares at them both as he has since Lothering, maybe it’s personal or maybe his face is just permanently stuck. Wynne seems eager to begin the meeting, she’s nice enough but apparently she’s possessed. Then there’s the actual golem, Bodhan thought they were just a myth made up by the Assembly, who seems to hold a very particular hatred towards pigeons, not exactly what he expected. </p>
<p>Oh and the Antivan assassin who apparently tried to kill the Wardens before recruitment. It’s not Bodahn’s job to question, but that seems like not the smartest choice.  Morrigan loiters at the edge of the group, yellow eyes glowing in the dark. Bodhan fears her the most, he’d rather not be turned into a toad. The Warden is missing this particular bi-weekly full camp supply meeting, off saving the world or something. </p>
<p>“We need more of that Orlesian cheese you had last month,” says Alistair, “because someone decided to eat it all.” The mabari hound barks in acknowledgment, unashamed and undeterred. </p>
<p>“I have a craving for those frilly cakes they make in the Val Royeaux bakery. Perhaps you can procure those,” requests Leliana. <em>Frilly cakes, Sandal writes, flavor not specified. </em></p>
<p>“Has it escaped your notice that we are at war? We have no time for such frivolous things. Weapons and armor will be enough, dwarf,” says Sten. Actually Bodhan can do frivolous or not frivolous, really he doesn’t judge at all.  “And some cookie dough for Sten,” Leliana giggles. The Qunari does not object. <em>Swords and things. Cookie dough?, Sandal writes.</em> </p>
<p>Zevran pipes up. “I believe it is my turn then. I would like Antivan brandy, Bastion chocolate, a new pair of leather boots, a white steel dagger, a good bottle of olive oil, some red wine,” Sandal scribbles as quickly as possible, “ah and some of those frilly cakes from Val Royeaux would do quite nicely. Along with some personal items I will write you a list for.”  </p>
<p>Morrigan rolls her eyes, Bodhan braces himself. “If you all are quite finished, I require better lyrium  potions. Tis essential I do not choke on whatever it is you provide while I cast.” </p>
<p>“Afraid I can’t do that. Since Orzammar’s closed and the Circle is overrun by demons, the mages collective is the only lyrium seller left.” There are of course other avenues, but Bodhan stays out of the drug trade, profitable but a bit too nasty. </p>
<p>The Witch scowls. “Do not play coy with me, dwarf. Get me another kind of lyrium.” </p>
<p>“I’m…” Bodhan gulps, “not that kind of dwarf.” </p>
<p>“I could assist you in sourcing lyrium. I still have some contacts,” says Leliana. Bodhan wonders, how is this unassuming Chantry girl involved in the drug trade? Mage sympathizer would be his guess. On second thought he doesn’t want to know, he’s stayed alive this long by knowing when not to ask questions. </p>
<p>“Ah so the Chantry girl is involved in the sale of lyrium,” mocks Morrigan, “fascinating that one can have so many quirks and yet continue to be completely uninteresting.” </p>
<p>“Do you ever tire of being the oversexed, spiteful witch, Morrigan? It must be an exhausting archetype to always embody.” Leliana snaps back. </p>
<p>“Yeah I’m just gonna, uh, get going then,” Bodhan and the boy slip away from the campfire as the bickering continues to escalate. As always, they barely notice. He takes the list from Sandal and starts to get to work. </p>
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